Christmas With A Drunk
by Dark's Bloody Bride
Summary: This is pretty much 12 hours worth of pack and fourth on omegle that I'm posting here for a friend to read because facebook is a butt.


You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!

You and the stranger both like superhusbands, and steve/tony.

**Stranger:** "Merry Christmas," Tony muttered to himself, curled up on the couch with a bottle of scotch. He stared out the window, watching the snow fall on a quiet city. Everyone was tucked away safely in their homes, with their friends and family. Tony had successfully pushed all of his friends away, and now sat alone, his misery illuminated by the sparkling lights of his massive Christmas tree. Pepper had decorated it about a week ago, before she'd...left. She'd finally given up on him, and left.

**You:** Steve sat in his empty apartment, staring at the skyline that'd changed so much over the years, sighing softly. He couldn't help but sigh sadly. Christmas was a time for friends and family. He didn't have that any more. He hadn't had that in 70 years. He looked at the picture of Peggy and smiled bitterly, "Merry Christmas..." he mumbled sadly. He let his mind drift to the team. They'd been friendly enough to him, but they weren't family, and they had people to spend time with. Thor was here, visiting Jane. Natasha and Clint were out together, Bruce had Emily, and even Tony had Pepper.

**Stranger:** Tony rose from the couch when his bottle was empty, staggering toward the bar. He got his hands on another bottle, fresh and full, but he was too drunk to even grip it. He dropped the bottle against the counter; it shattered, and shards of the glass slashed at his hands, cutting them, making them bleed. The blood reminded him of how bitterly /alive/ he was. Alive, but alone. With a desperate roar, he grabbed two more bottles, hurling them against the wall. He swiped a stack of wine glasses to the floor, and they broke into dozens of pieces. Then Tony staggered out to the balcony, tasting the snow, swallowing the freezing air. He leaned against the rail, over, over, almost too far. Inside, Jarvis sent out an automated distress signal to the rest of the team. The AI could recognize when Tony was a danger to himself.

**You:** Steve frowned, feeling bad about being overjoyed that he was happy that there was an alert on Christmas. He looked at the alert and his eyes widened, "Guys, I'm closest. I'll take care of it. Enjoy your holiday," he said, grabbing his jacked and heading for door. The of worry through him astounded him. He hadn't been able to see Tony. He was out the door quickly, keys in hand. He climbed onto his bike and rode off. It wasn't long until he arrived. He looked at the Tower and walked towards the doors, taking the elevator up and walking into the penthouse, "Tony?" he called, walking in, hearing the sound of breaking glass. "Tony, are you in here?"

**Stranger:** Over the wind rushing around him and his heart pounding in his ears, Tony couldn't hear Steve. There was an odd, peaceful sort of smile on his face as he continued to lean, further, further, his bare toes lifting from the snow-dusted concrete. He was outside in nothing but a t-shirt and jeans, and he was freezing, but he couldn't care. Soon, he might not have to care about anything. His grip on the railing was precarious at best-his palms were slippery with blood. "Mr. Stark is on the balcony, Mr. Rogers," Jarvis' voice informed Steve. "Perhaps not for much longer." Somehow, the AI managed to sound urgent.

**You:** Steve's eyes widened as his feet carried him carelessly over the broken grass towards the open balcony door and froze, spotting Tony. He felt a vice grip his heart, taking a step forward. "Tony..." he said softly, not wanting to startle him over the edge. "Tony come inside," he pleaded desperately, hand outstretched. "Whatever happened...It'll be okay, I promise. This isn't the answer for /anything/This will only make things worse..." he swallowed hard, trying to talk him down. They'd had their differences, but he'd never dream of Tony dying under any circumstances and most certainly not these. "There are lots of people that care about you, and doing this will only hurt them."

**Stranger:** Tony was broken from his peaceful reverie, from his pleasant dream of nearly flying, free, without his suit, and it angered him. "Oh? People like you? Yeah, Rogers, you always make me feel so loved." His fingers tightened around the rail, but still, his hands slipped in the slick coat of blood. For a moment, he thought he was going to fall, and his heart dropped to his stomach. Soon, though, he righted himself. Not by accident. This would happen under his own power. He wouldn't fall. He would fly.

**You:** Steve rushed three steps closer, hand outstretched when he saw the dark-haired man wobble, "Tony!" He stopped when he righted himself, breath coming out anxious and labored. "Yes, like me Tony," he said firmly over the wind, all to aware of just how high it was and twice as aware of Tony's precarious teetering. He tried to think of something -anything- to make tony back up. Come back over to the other side of the rail. "Tony..." he pressed, stepping lightly, silently closer, hands shaking. If he was lucky, he would be able to grab Tony and pull him back over before he noticed.

**Stranger:** Tony thought his tears might freeze on his face, but they didn't. They rolled down his cheeks and dropped into oblivion, to the city streets dozens of stories below. He wouldn't survive. There was no way he could. And wasn't that the point? He was already so broken, such a waste of space. A misfit toy, really, if one wished to be festive. "She left, Steve," he rasped. "She's gone. I always knew it would happen. Eventually, everyone leaves. Why shouldn't they? I'm fucking awful. I know it."

**You:** Steve froze, realizing instantly what was all about. Pepper. "Tony...if she couldn't see how great you are, she wasn't worth your time." He took a deep breath. He had to keep Tony talking. Keep his mind on the conversation at hand. "You're...You're not awful Tony. Okay? You're one of the most brilliant men I know. You try to act like you don't care about anyone but yourself...but I'm beginning to realize that's what it is. An act." He sighed softly, feeling guilty for all the harsh words he'd said, because everyone of them Tony had proved him wrong. "I once said you weren't a hero. That you weren't a hero. That you weren't the guy to make the sacrifice play. I was wrong, Tony. I was terribly wrong...and...any woman should consider herself lucky to be your dame. If Pepper's too blind to see it...then that's her mistake. There's someone out there just waiting to find you Tony...to love you."

**Stranger:** Tony snorted. "For what?" he choked. "For my money? For my fame? For the fact that I'm Iron Man? Probably. I'm not really Iron Man, though. That's the thing. Iron Man is one person, and Tony Stark is another. Tony Stark is a coward, a complete idiot who ruins every relationship he dares to try. He isn't suited to have friends or lovers. He's suited for being alone, and that's it." A quiet sob shook his frame. Over the past week, in Pepper's absence, he'd lost weight. Why bother eating when he could just drink instead? "He's better off dead."

**You:** Steve shook his head, "No, Tony. None of those things are love... If someone truly loves you...they have to see the reality underneath all of that." He was almost close enough to grab him...just a little bit more. "And I don't know who you're talking about, but the Tony Stark I know is none of those things. He's...creative," he started. "And-and resourceful. He knows when something isn't right. He's charming- frustratingly so, because sometimes you just wish you could hate him. And the thing is, he makes you think he doesn't care- and you'd never be any more clever to the fact that it ticks him off just a little," he felt his lips twitch at the truth in that statement. "And most importantly, Tony Stark is too damn smart to throw himself off the roof of his own tower without knowing that someone cares for him, and god-damnit, Tony, if I have to stand here until kingdom come, I will, because you're not going to die tonight."

**Stranger:** Tony sobbed, almost violently, his whole body heaving. "I don't...I don't really think that's up to you, Rogers," he gasped. "It's not your choice; it's mine. If this is what I want, who are you to stop me? If you care so God damn much, shouldn't you just let me jump? If this is what I really want, shouldn't you just let me have it?" He leaned a little further. He didn't mean to fall, not yet, but just like everything else in his life, control was ripped from his hands. A gust of wind picked up and sent him tumbling over the railing, the world twisting upside down. He felt sick. Both hands still gripped the top bar. But his fingers were slipping, slipping, one by one...

**You:** Steve's body reflexively lunged towards the railing, eyes wide, "Tony!" he yelled again, his feel likely evident in his voice. His hands reached down, gripping Tony's wrists, though not able to grip them properly because of the blood. His chest was suddenly heaving with panic as the reality set in. Tony was hanging from the side of the building, drunk and out of sorts, broken and alone. And all Steve had done so far was make it worse. "Tony, I won't let you fall," he said firmly. "Because you may not think you don't have friends, and I know you don't believe I really care, but I do, Tony. I'm here. I'm here because I care about you and I don't want to lose someone I'm just starting to realize I consider a close friend. I'm not going to let you fall because, even though you say it's what you want, I don't think it is. I'm doing this because you are to good to commit suicide. You, Tony Stark. The idiot hanging off a balcony with an ex-girlfriend that if I was a lesser man, I would personally beat the snot out of, but seeing as I'm a polite man, I'll let Natasha do it. Not the billionaire company owner. Not Iron Man. Tony Stark."

**Stranger:** Tony heaved another sob, the tears spilling from his eyes, which were wide and filled with sheer and utter horror. God, no, he /didn't/ want this! He didn't want to fall; he didn't want to die! He tried to grip Steve's wrists in return, to strengthen their bond, but he was still slipping. He gasped for air, panic setting in, his heart beginning to freeze with terror. "Rogers," he choked. "Rogers. Steve. Steve, pull me up. Fuck...don't let me go. Please, Steve, please, please, don't let me go. Please."

**You:** Steve nodded, staring into Tony's eyes with a sure clarity, his grip tightening on one hand while the other let go. "I won't, Tony. I'm not going to let you fall. I've got you," he promised in a steady voice to hold back his own terror. "I've got you," he repeated as his other arm looped under Tony's shoulder and around his torso. "I'm not gonna let you fall, Tony. You're not alone." He kept repeating those words like a mantra as he began to hall the troublingly light man up back over the railing, not caring about the blood seeping into his shirt, only about getting Tony to safety. "I'm right here," he assured, hoisting him up over the railing like a toddler. "You're okay, Tony. You're okay."

**Stranger:** Tony wrapped his arms around Steve's neck, holding tightly to him, his entire body shuddering. He felt very, very small in this man's arms. He'd never been so scared in his life, not even when he'd flown a nuclear missile through a worm hole to save New York. He was like a child again, trembling and frightened, too frightened to function. He could hardly move. All he could do was bury his face in Steve's shoulder and dissolve into drunken tears.

**You:** Steve didn't utter a word of protest, patting his bad as he felt the vice on his chest relax. Tony was safe. He was okay. He wasn't dead. He wasn't about to commit suicide. He was safe. "You're safe, Tony..." he repeated again, voice tender and warm. "It'll all be okay..." he said gently. "I'm here. I'm here, I've got you," he kept repeating, he felt the much smaller man's face in his shoulder, disturbed by the odd fluttering in his chest. /must've been breathing harder than I thought.../ he thought to himself. He made his way through the living room, littered with broken glass, and turned towards where he knew, at the very least, the guest quarters were, from his last stay. "It's alright Tony. It's alright," he repeated like a promise as he turn into one of the bedrooms, sitting down. Tony needed rest.

**Stranger:** Tony continued to quiver in his arms, though his breathing gradually settled and his sobs diminished. "Jarvis sent out a distress signal, didn't he?" he muttered into the crook of Steve's neck. "Jarvis sent out a distress signal, and you're the one that came. Why did you come for me, Steve?" He looked up at the taller man, pressing closer to the firm warmth of his chest. "Why, out of everyone?" Tony's eyes were red and moist from crying, and there were dark circles beneath them from not have slept properly in days. But behind the exhaustion was obvious relief, and gratitude.

**You:** Steve sighed softly, staring at Tony. He could feed him the crap he'd come up with to justify it to himself. He was closest. He was the leader. He could've said anything other than the undeniable truth...but he knew. Somewhere inside he knew that's all it was...an excuse. Something he'd concocted to rationalize his fear. All His terror at the thought of losing Tony. Not just as a teammate but...something more? It was far too late now to deny that cared more for Tony than he'd dare believe. "Because I do care, Tony. Because I'm your...friend. Or...at least I want to be," he sighed looking down. "Because you matter to me as just Tony Stark than ten of Iron Man." /because I almost lost you and I don't know why...but that makes me want to cry./ he didn't dare speak that last part for fear of breaking the delicate glass they stood on right now.

**Stranger:** Tony tucked his head back against Steve's shoulder and closed his eyes, strangely satisfied with the answer. "Thanks, capsicle..." he mumbled. "Thanks for caring. Thanks for saving me. Just, thanks." He sounded bone-weary, truly exhausted, and he couldn't resist the tug of sleep any longer. He allowed it to pull him down, surrounding him, cradling him just as Steve was, close and secure. In moments, he was dozing, snoring lightly against Steve's chest. His dreams were restless and fitful, filled with long, dark, cold and lonely falls.

**You:** Steve didn't sleep, holding Tony the night through, watching his fits, wishing he could make it better, but not wanting to wake the poor man. When he would whimper or fuss, he would simply tighten his grip and whisper, "You're safe, Tony..." to him. Eventually though, around three in the morning, he did fall asleep, though his grip didn't lessen. His instinct to protect and care for the smaller man running fierce in his veins, even in his sleep.

**Stranger:** Tony woke to warmth, and to sunlight shining through the curtains and caressing his face. He was comfortable, resting against someone's chest, feeling it rise and fall with every breath the other took. Steve, Tony recalled. Steve had come, and in true heroic fashion, had saved Tony's life, even when Tony hadn't been sure he'd wanted to be saved. He woke slowly, returning to alertness bit by bit. He wished he hadn't. Immediately, he struggled out of Steve's iron grip and half ran, half stumbled to the bathroom. His hangover was fierce and murderous.

**You:** Steve woke a while later, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The first thing he noticed was that he was not in his apartment. He sat up and sighed, staring at the light filtering into the room and onto the sheets. The night's events quickly returned to him. Tony...on the balcony...he'd been about to fall. He'd saved him, just barely from a gruesome death. He'd brought him up there to rest and some how fell asleep himself. That's when he realized Tony wasn't sleeping any more. Instantly, worry struck him again. "Tony?" he called looking around.

**Stranger:** Tony was hunched over the toilet in the bathroom, emptying his stomach of its meager contents. He groaned, pressing his forehead against the cool porcelain of the toilet seat. Even after a few bouts of vomiting, his stomach still had not settled. It churned with a vengeance. His head pounded; his vision was blurring. He hated hangovers more than anything, and they were even worse when he was starving and sleep deprived.

**You:** Steve heard the retching and grimaced in instant understanding. He got out of bed, now barefoot, having taken his shoes off to lie down, and leaned against the doorframe. "I'll be right back," he assured him, turning to walk out of the bedroom to the kitchen. "JARVIS, where does Tony keep the baking soda?" he asked.

**Stranger:** "I believe Miss Potts stored it in the cupboard above the microwave, sir," Jarvis replied simply, politely. Tony groaned again at the sound of the red-head's name. He didn't want to be reminded. He vomited again.

**You:** Steve grimaced softly at the sound and sighed, "Hey, JARVIS," he asked, opening the cupboard and getting out the baking soda. "Can you not say her name any more? I mean, it's putting Tony in distress, and well...that's bad and I know you're smart because Tony says your smart, so it shouldn't be to hard to remember, right?" he asked hopefully.

**Stranger:** "Of course, sir," Jarvis said. "My apologies. I shall refrain." The AI fell silent, leaving only to sounds of Tony's retching to be heard. This wasn't how the genius had wanted to spend his Christmas. He'd planned on spending Christmas Eve with Pepper here, at the tower, then flying her to Paris for Christmas Day. It would have been wonderful...

**You:** "Thank you, JARVIS," Steve replied as he mixed up some strange water and baking soda concoction that he remembered from before he was put on ice. He stared at the drink and sighed. It wasn't going to taste good, that was for sure. He returned to the bathroom minutes later while Tony was mid-retch and reached down to pat his back, brushing his dark hair from his face. Once he was done, he shifted and held the glass up, "Drink this. It should help settle your stomach."

**Stranger:** Tony took the glass without question, putting complete faith in Steve, and gulped it down in seconds. Anything to get rid of this horrible nausea. When he'd finished drinking, and the taste finally hit him, he wrinkled his nose in displeasure. "W-what the fuck was that?" he moaned. "Ugh! Damn it, Rogers..."

**You:** "I never said it tasted good," Steve chuckled, raising an eyebrow and shake his head to hide his mirth. "It's water and baking soda," he explained. "Bucky would get drunk and stay at my place, not wanting to go home, 'cause he'd get caught and he always made such a fuss the next morning about his hangover, so I learned some remedies," he explained quickly. "This was one of the better ones."

**Stranger:** "One of the better ones?" Tony grumbled. "Well, congratulations. It still tastes like shit..." He stood, shaky on his feet, and grabbed a washcloth from the sink, wiping his mouth. "And I feel like shit...Jesus...this sucks..."

**You:** Steve grimaced again, looking away, "Sorry," he mumbled, not even feeling like putting up his usual mask of anger. He usually would remark that 'that's what you get for drinking yourself stupid,' but now didn't seem the time. He could understand why Tony did it.

**Stranger:** Tony leaned over the sink and splashed water on his face, trying to wake himself up. Hesitantly, he glanced in the mirror. He really looked like death warmed over. The water stung his hands, seeped into the cuts and little gashes made by the broken glass the previous night. "You don't have to stay, you know..." he muttered to Steve. "Thanks for your help."

**You:** Steve's lips twitched as he shook his head, "I'm not leaving," he replied firmly, staring into his face in the mirror as he leaned against the wall. Pulling Tony up off the balcony was only the first part of it. When he did eventually go home, what was stopping Tony from falling back into drinking and possibly succeeding if he tried again. He buried the internal shiver the though gave him with a strong mask. No. That wouldn't happen. He wouldn't let his...friend do that to himself.

**Stranger:** "Why not...?" Tony said. "You did your part. You saved my ass, woo-hoo, you've proven you're a hero yet again. You won't have to live with guilt on your conscience because you let me kill myself. Why don't you go home and relax and do...whatever it is capsicles do on Christmas? I'm sure it'll be a lot more rewarding for you than staying here and babysitting me all day."

**You:** Steve raised an eyebrow and shook his head, "Tony, this has nothing to do with my conscience," he said, standing at full height once more. "This is about me caring about a friend of mine and not wanting him to hurt himself. Besides, baby sitting implies that I'm telling you what to do. That's not at all my intention. Then a thought struck him. Tony likely didn't want him around. He didn't let his sorrow at that though show, though he could feel it in his gaze, which wavered slightly. "If you really want me to go, though, I'll leave you be."

**Stranger:** "Of course I do," Tony muttered. "I want to be alone. Scram." He rolled up his sleeves to wash his blood-stained hands. Small, fading red lines criss-crossed up his forearms, a macabre design painted on a pale, hateful canvas. Classic narcissism was the only thing Natasha had been wrong about in his psych profile. Tony didn't love himself at all. Quite the opposite, actually. "Go home and unwrap gifts with whoever your little girlfriend is. Go fondue or whatever the hell you call it."

**You:** Steve raised an eyebrow, "I don't have a girlfriend," was his first response, saying it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "There hasn't been anyone since I woke up," he elaborated, then stopped. "Your dad told you about the fondue thing? It was an honest mistake..." he sighed and mumbled to himself, "one time and it followed you for the rest of your life..." He looked up then, brow furrowing as his aqua orbs resting on the fading scars, some newer than others. "Tony..." he began, unsure what he intended to say after that. Unsure why he cares as much as he did. He could say it was because he was a teammate, but if he was honest, he didn't care all that much about the others outside of the field. On the field, he'd have their back no matter what, but when they went their separate ways after a fight, he didn't give them a second thought...except Tony.

**Stranger:** Tony glanced up at him, then followed his gaze to his arms. Instantly, he reached up to tug his sleeves back down to his wrists. "Yeah, capsicle?" He muttered. "What is it? Go on; don't hold back. Tell me what kind of a coward I am for this." He raised his arms. "Let me hear it. Do your worst. I'm sure I've had worse things thrown at me before. Positive."

**You:** Steve's brow furrowed. Coward? looked up at him, his gaze holding little more than a bit of surprise that he knew was misplaced. He knew Tony wasn't as tough as he acted...he accepted that. Maybe even...like that about Tony. "Why?" he asked softly. He didn't demand an answer nor did he expect it. And if Tony told him to get out, then that's what he'd do. He knew he had to be pushing some of Tony's buttons, even if it was the furthest thing from his mind.

**Stranger:** "Because sometimes, it's too much," Tony mumbled. "Sometimes, I can't stand the thought of everything I've done in my life, of all the weapons I made and all the lives I took, and I can't stand the nightmares that haven't left me alone since I was taken captive and this /thing/ was put in my chest. And they're only worse, now. Since the battle, there are more of them. I can't stand thinking of how Obadiah, the one person besides Pepper I knew I could trust, turned around and betrayed me. Tried to kill me. And now Pepper's turned her back on me, too. Though, that was my fault. My fault, because I'm a selfish, stupid piece of shit."

**You:** Steve patiently listened to Tony talk, making no move to show any distaste towards the actions as he once would have. His entire form was the picture of understanding. Until those last ten words. Then his face took on a flash of sudden anger and adamance. "Tony, don't say that about yourself. You're not worthless. Not by a long shot. It's ridiculous that you think that. And you're most certainly not stupid! Look, people mess up, okay? They make mistakes. Some people make more mistakes than others, but the fact remains that, no matter what someone did or who they hurt, that doesn't make them worthless- doesn't YOU worthless."

**Stranger:** "Yeah, nice of you to say that to me!" Tony yelled, whirling on Steve, his face a portrait of desperate fury. "That's just perfect! You think I've forgotten everything you said to me, or something? You just taking all of it back now, because it's convenient? On a self-loathing scale of one to ten, I'm a new level entirely. I'm like a twenty. So you can stop trying to cheer me up, pretty boy stars-n-stripes!"

**You:** Steve's brow furrowed, "What's your problem, Stark?!" he snapped, "All morning all I've been trying to do was be a good friend to you and you just keep throwing it back in my face! And I know what I said, okay? And I know I was wrong! I judged you too quickly and made assumptions, but you know what? A lot of people say things they regret. If I recall, you didn't exactly wave a friendship banner in my face! From the moment I woke up, you were bent on hating me because I was friends with your father and nothing pissed you off more? AM I RIGHT SO FAR, TONY!?" he snapped.

**Stranger:** Tony's heart clenched, and for a moment, it was very hard to breathe. But this was what he deserved. Every word Steve yelled at him was a well earned bullet, digging its way through skin and muscle and bone and tearing away at Tony. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, you're exactly right. You were friends with my father. I never was. I barely knew him. He was a great man. Much better than me. You've said so yourself."

**You:** Steve looked stricken. Had he really said that? That Howard was a better man than Tony? He had...he remembered those words. He shook his head, suddenly looking sad in his own right. "I did say that...didn't I?" he mumbled softly, looking down guiltily. He felt bad. He'd said so many cruel things to Tony and no doubt others did too. He got the feeling that's how Tony had made it. He'd built the façade of 'Tony Stark Genius Billionaire Playboy Philanthropist' for a reason, after all. Steve had a sinking suspicion that wasn't to give him a terrific boost in reputation.

**Stranger:** "Yeah," Tony said. "Remembering now, huh? Interesting what comes back to us with a little jog in memory." He turned back to the sink, grabbing bandages from the cupboard and wrapping his hands in a thick layer. "So forgive me if, now that I'm not drunk off my ass, I'm a little skeptical of you suddenly being all buddy buddy, telling me you're trying to be a good friend when I'm pretty sure you've never had any interest in being friends with me, especially after finding out how much of a let down I am compared to my dear departed daddy."

**You:** Steve sighed, "Tony, have you ever thought, maybe people get angry and say things that they don't mean?" he asked, rubbing his forehead. "And it's really not that sudden. You just don't really pay attention," he replied. "And I'll admit...when I first met you, I was hoping for another Howard," he said guiltily, "and was a little bit startled at how drastically different you two were." He smiled bitterly, "And realize no that it's not really such a terrible thing. You're smarter than Howard was. And believe it or not, you're better that the whole 'emotional' thing than he was," he looked down. "You want to know the real reason I was so unwilling to be friendly at first, Tony?" he looked up expectantly.

**Stranger:** "Yeah, sure," Tony said, staring down at the scars on his arms, picking at some of the fresher ones, relishing the sting and the way blood welled up from reopened scabs. "Shoot, Rogers. Tell me. I'm /dying/ to know." He smirked dryly at his own weak humor. He still felt sick to his stomach, but now for an entirely different reason.

**You:** Steve sighed, picking up instantly on the sarcasm in his voice. "Maria Carbonell... that name ring a bell?" he asked, not giving him time to answer, already knowing it did. His fingers itched to reach over and grab Tony's wrists and keep him from hurting them anymore, but he stayed still. "Her previous name? Margaret Carter. Better known as Peggy Carter," he said, looking away towards the shower. "Immigrated into America in 1966 to be with her husband Howard Stark and her son Anthony..." he said. His last words were a croak as he said, "So me and your 'dear departed daddy' weren't really on the kind of terms you thought we were.

**Stranger:** Tony snorted, though now he felt even sicker. "So you wanted to hate me because you were in love with my mom and my daddy took her from you?" he said. "Bit petty of you, isn't it? Bit Severus Snape and Harry Potter." It was bad enough that Steve had known his father so well...he'd known Tony's mother, too? He'd been in love with her? Tony remembered enough of his mother to know that she'd cared for him much more than his father, but it still wasn't enough. It wasn't the relationship he should have had with his parents. Steve had been close with them, had known them better than Tony could have ever dreamed to.

**You:** Steve chose to ignore the Harry Potter remark. He wasn't quite sure what it meant. "It's different, Tony," he sighed. "For me, it's only been a few days since I was with Peggy. And I...I wake up and find out that she's not only dead, but she married Howard- and had his kid. I was just...angry and I wanted to be angry at someone- and you made as good a target as anyone, so I directed it at you." He looked down shamefully. "Not because you did anything, but because you were Howards son." His eyes were still following Tony's hands, picking off scabs and smearing the welts of blood that followed. "Damnit, Tony," he muttered, daring to reach down and grab both of Tony's wrists live a pair of vices. Like he had the night before when he was about to fall of the balcony.

**Stranger:** Tony flinched. Steve's grip on his wrists brought the memories of the night before rushing back. The wind, the snow, the cold, the near fall. He'd almost plunged to his death. It made him feel sick, sick, /sick/. He pulled his arms sharply away from Steve and dropped to his knees beside the toilet, dry-heaving painfully. So close. He'd been so close. Why had he changed his mind? Right. Because Steve had spouted nonsense about friendship, and caring. Tony had yet to decide if any of it was true. He took a deep, trembling breath. "I don't think I was ever Howard's son..." he muttered. "Not really. He talked about you, you know. All the time. More than he ever talked about me..."

**You:** Steve frowned, "That's not fair to you, Tony," he said softly. He watched him, but didn't make a move, no matter how badly he wanted to. If he was being honest with himself, he'd say that he was so angry at Howard it wasn't funny. He'd say that he wanted to pick Tony up and show him all the love he'd been starved of as a child. If he was being honest with himself he'd say he wanted to drag Tony to his feet and- but he wasn't being honest with himself because those thoughts were wrong and sinful. He couldn't possibly want that. It was ridiculous and wrong and forbidden and he could never so something so preposterous. He couldn't want those things. He just...wanted Tony to feel better. That was all. Yeah. "If I change that, Tony, I would."

**Stranger:** "You can't..." Tony muttered. "So don't worry about it. It's not like it's your fault your so perfect and all. From a bottle, remember?" He sighed, pushing himself to his feet and rinsing off his face again. "That's not totally true, though, and I know it. If you weren't strong and heroic on the inside, you never would have become Captain America in the first place. I said some pretty unfair things, too, and I know it. I guess I was jealous that some ninety-something year old geezer had a better relationship with my father than I did."

**Stranger:** **you're

**You:** Steve sighed, "I wish that you could've known the Howard I did. The Howard that he should have been for you. And...believe me, I'm not as perfect as I seem," his lips twitched again. "I tried to hate a kid for something he couldn't control. That's something so...preposterously stupid and childish that I should be ashamed...and I am. If I hate people because of their birth, I'm- I'm no better than Hitler!" he swung his fringe out of his eyes just now registering how mussed his hair probably looked. "And...the fact is, if I'm honest, I didn't love Peggy. I wasn't 'in-love' with her. I just...liked her. She was a woman who was interested in me. Have you seen the pictures from before the serum? I certainly wasn't a catch. So...I liked that she liked me. I didn't love her. I don't even think I know love. I was just...I don't know. I was upset because she didn't like me anymore? See how petty that is?"

**Stranger:** "It is pretty petty," Tony snorted. "Jesus, Rogers." He sighed, leaning back against the sink, mostly to hold himself upright. His headache hadn't abated at all. He felt like his eyes were going to pop out of his head, or like his ears might start bleeding. He couldn't recall the last time he'd felt so hung over, or so weak. He also couldn't recall the last time he'd eaten. "You know, I have seem pictures from before the serum. You were tiny. But you know what? You were still pretty cute. Now you're hunky. And don't be all surprised by that. In my infamous playboy years, I didn't discriminate. I'd even wager I got a lot more dick than I did tits."

**You:** Steve felt his usual urge to help and to care for niggling the back of him mind at Tony's state. He frowned slightly, wanting to worry over him, but not wanting to annoy him. He'd done enough to piss Tony off recently. When Tony made his 'confession' or whatnot where he said he liked men and women, Steve arched an eyebrow ignoring the part of him that was overjoyed. To cover his internal enthusiasm he covered with an old fashioned shrug, headshake, and mutter of "Times really have changed..." before he leaned back against the wall, wanting to change the subject. "How are you feeling?" he asked, looking him over.

**Stranger:** "Awful," Tony admitted. "Capsicle, I feel like absolute shit." There was no sense in lying to the man. Steve was more observant than Tony gave him credit for, and would figure it out eventually on his own. "I'm beyond hung over, my brain feels like it's about to explode, I'm sore all over, I'm bleeding, and I don't think I've eaten since...last Thursday."

**You:** Steve's brow knit together as his undeniable instinct for maintaining Tony's health kicked in. "Right. Okay, I can see about fixing that. First, JARVIS, where are the band-aids?"

**Stranger:** "The cupboard above the bathroom sink, sir," Jarvis responded. "There is also a jar of salve there, for Mr. Stark's scars." Tony flinched at that, averting his eyes guiltily. Odd that a piece of artificial intelligence knew him better than the majority of the human beings around him.

**You:** Steve nodded softly, "Thank you, JARVIS," he replied, opening the cupboard and getting out the salve and ban-aids. He set them on the counter and turned to put the lid on the toilet seat down and gestured for Tony to sit, opening the jar and gathering some salve on his fingers.

**Stranger:** Obediently, Tony sat, peering up at Steve with tired eyes. "Hey, Rogers," he rasped. "Don't...you won't tell anyone about this, will you? I mean...this is the only secret I feel like I can keep from SHIELD. Even Fury doesn't know about...this." He gestured to his arms. "I have them all fooled with the narcissist thing, and I'd like to keep it that way...alright?"

**You:** Steve nodded in understanding, "I won't tell anyone, Tony," he promised, firmly. "You have my word that this will stay strictly between us, Tony." he turned and crouched in front Tony, reaching down with a careful gentleness and rolling up the soaked sleeve. The hand with the salve brushed over the scars gently but thoroughly, his calloused hands working the salve in slowly. Once he was done with the left arm, he wiped his hands clean on a towel and gathered bandages for the open wounds, never making any sound of distaste or disapproval.

**Stranger:** Tony shuddered, shoulders slumping, the tension draining from his body. He kept his eyes on Steve's face, analyzing his expression, taking in every little nuance and twitch. The desire to lean forward, to capture those soft, stern, innocent lips was overwhelming. And Tony was never one to hold back when it came to his whims. Steve's touch was gentle, not judgmental, tender. He swooped inward and caught Steve's lips with his own. God, they were just as soft as they looked.

**You:** Steve's shoulder's tensed and his breath hitched in surprise, his hands stopping, Band-Aid in hand. It took him a moment to realize what was happening. Tony...was kissing him. The thing he'd been so tempted with...denied himself since he'd discovered his secret cravings...was happening. His eyes were wide, taken by surprise by the bold lips on his. The felt...new. Peggy's lips had been plump and awkward against his own and the kisses were fumbled and strange. Tony's lips...fit? When he finally regained his senses, he leaned forward, allowing his eyes to slip closed and returned the kiss, one hand resting beside Tony's hip to hold himself up.

**Stranger:** Tony kissed him for a long moment before pulling back, absolutely breathless. He gave Steve a smile, feeling a little light headed, and a lot giddy. "Well, well, Captain," he gasped. "I didn't know you had it in you. But that was admittedly...delicious. Let's do it again." Once more, he pressed forward, his lips meeting Steve's in another soft, exploratory kiss.

**You:** There was no hesitation this time, as Steve ignored the voice in the back of his mind saying that this was wrong. Sinful. Besides, he was only human. Even god allowed for small weaknesses. He wouldn't be the forgiving god if he didn't. He found himself completely enraptured by Tony's kiss, keeping a steady pace, enjoying their lips working against each other. And if his hand happened to move to Tony's midsection well, then so be it.

**Stranger:** Tony shivered, abs twitching at Steve's touch. He broke the kiss with a soft gasp, but stayed close, his forehead pressed to Steve's. He stared into those clear, perfect eyes. "Mmm, my muscles aren't nearly as impressive as yours are, Cap," he murmured, trailing his lips from the corner of Steve's mouth to the center of his cheek.

**You:** Steve's lips flicked into a softly half smile, his palm pressing flat against Tony's torso, feeling the shape of his chest and abdomen, "Muscles aren't everything, Tony," he replied, eyes fluttering shut for the briefest of moments. Quickly he remembered the task at hand and turned, reaching down for Tony's arm once more, placing another Band-Aid on an open wound.

**Stranger:** Tony sighed. "Damn," he said, giving Steve a little pout. "Back to the bandaging. But the kissing was so much better!" He managed a smile, though he was still completely exhausted. After a while, the smile faded, and he just watched Steve's strong, sure, calloused fingers at work. "For a while, last night, I thought I was dreaming."

**You:** He smiled softy, listening to Tony talk as he shuffled slightly to take the other arm, looking up to give Tony a brief kiss before scooping some more salve onto his fingers and giving his right arm the same gentle, firm treatment the other had gotten, "It wasn't a dream," he promised firmly. "I'm still right here," he mumbled as an unspoken promise.

**Stranger:** "And you will be, won't you?" Tony said, feeling confident in his assumption. "You're always going to be right here. Not like my dad. Not like Pepper. You...you're going to stay." He looked up at Steve, suddenly, sharply, eyes bright. "Move into the tower."

**You:** Steve's eyebrows arched at Tony's sudden decision and he realized Tony was waiting on him to speak. "If...you're sure you want me here," he replied warmly, blue eyes full of understanding. "Either way I'll always be right here whenever you need me," he promised, confirming Tony's assumption.

**Stranger:** "I'm sure," Tony said. "As much as I like to portray the image of a loner, I'm not, really. This place is way too big for just me and my machines. So yeah, I'm sure I want you here. The guest room you usually take can be yours. I'd say we can share a bed, but I know you're a bit old-fashioned, Cap."

**You:** Steve smiled appreciatively Tony, glad he was taking his comforts into consideration. "Thanks, Tony," he mumbled softly, his hands pausing for a moment as he dared to press their foreheads together, "but I want you to remember that, if you wake up in the middle of the night, you can come by my room, no matter the time," he mumbled. He knew when offering that, more often than not, Tony would be in his bed around two, but that was alright with him. He didn't mind.

**Stranger:** Tony started to laugh, freely, feeling a weight lift from his chest. "How do you do it, Rogers?" he said. "How the fuck do you know me better than anyone-you know, except Jarvis-when really you haven't known me that long at all? It's incredible. God damn incredible. Oops, sorry, I mean, gosh darn, or...shit." He started laughing again.

**You:** Steve couldn't help but laugh along with him warmly, his entire for shaking with the laugh. "I don't know, Tony," he "Just...lucky guess I suppose," he mumbled teasingly. "And you do realize that I do say damn occasionally, right?" he mumbled. "Guess the 'Good Ol' Stars and Stripes' isn't as goody-goody as people think.

**Stranger:** "It wasn't the damn I was correcting, it was the God part," Tony chuckled. "I know how defensive you get of your higher power." He wrinkled his nose. "Not gonna make me go to church with you, are you? I honestly can't promise I'll behave. In fact, I'll probably misbehave quite severely."

**You:** Steve chuckled and rolled his eyes, "I never was to big on going to church...don't like other men telling me how I should look at what God's saying. I figure everyone had their own interpretation of it. And listening to someone standing up telling me how believe? Well, I've certainly never picked that up in the bible. Besides, we didn't fight for our freedom to have some fancy pants in their Sunday best controlling our reading."

**Stranger:** Tony grinned. "I like you, Rogers," he said, punching the man's shoulder gently. "I'm an atheist, and even I can kinda get in on what you're saying. Who knows? Maybe I'll read the Bible again and actually try to get something out of it this time." He brought his newly bandaged hand up to cup the back of Steve's neck, drawing the man close and kissing him tenderly. "Is this too fast?" he mumbled against his lips.

**You:** Steve paused, feeling the question against is lips as he brought his arm up to wrap around Tony for support and to keep him from moving away. "I don't think so," he breathed in reply, finding the soft brush of lips possibly more addicting than the intense collision of lips. Granted, some \might\ find it a bit fast...but that was alright. They didn't have to be involved. "I mean think about it. We just barely god bandaging you up. We've still got to take care of yours headache and hunger before you get some well-needed rest." he added teasingly.

**Stranger:** Tony blinked, then chuckled and shoved Steve playfully away. "Alright, alright," he said. "Get it over with, then. Let me take some Tylenol and eat some pizza and then take a nap, yeah? That'll take care of everything." He carefully stood, hands hovering over Steve's shoulders to assist with his balance. "Oh. By the way. Merry Christmas."

**You:** Steve smiled and reached around to help Tony stay upright, "Merry Christmas," he agreed, enjoying the comfortable stillness around them. It was...peaceful in a way, being up so many feet above the sounds of traffic, only the loudest of horns reaching on a still night. He turned to help Tony to the door, remembering the glass in the kitchen living room area thing. "Oh, right," he mumbled, making a quick detour to set Tony on the couch. "I'll get the glass up quickly."

**Stranger:** Tony frowned. "Don't cut yourself," he said, leaning back against the cushions. Now, in the more sober light of day, he lamented all of the perfectly good alcohol he'd wasted by smashing those bottles. Through the window, he could see out onto the balcony. The railing was dark red with his drying blood.

**You:** Steve smiled softly at him, "I'll try to be careful," he assured him, going to the closet and getting the broom and dust pan. He quickly swept the glass up and laid a towel over the alcohol to soak it up, stepping on it a couple times to press it into the liquid. Once he was content that the two of them could make it into the kitchen without falling or cutting themselves to bits, he put everything away and made his way back over to Tony.

**Stranger:** Tony reached out his arms for Steve. "You know what was great?" he said. "When you carried me to bed like a toddler and I just got to hold on to you and put forth absolutely no effort whatsoever. That was really, really great."

**You:** Steve chuckled knowingly, crouching down to pick Tony up easily, still astounded by how light he was, even for his size. "Well, it's not that difficult," he remarked, turning to head towards the kitchen.

**Stranger:** Tony's head dipped into the crook of Steve's neck and settled there. "Yeah, well, that's because you're a big, strong, manly super soldier," he reasoned. "All those muscles."

**You:** Steve smiled warmly, running his free hand up Tony's spine, "Or it could be because you haven't eaten since Thursday," he chided, opening the cabinet and getting out the Tylenol.

**Stranger:** "Haven't lost that much weight," Tony grumbled defiantly. "Couple pounds. Ten at most. Not much of a difference to your bulging biceps and rippling pectorals."

**You:** "Still," he mumbled, shaking two from the bottle and going to the cabinet and grabbing a glass. He filled it partially up with water before turning and kissing Tony's temple, "Tylenol," he said, holding the pills and glass up as well he could to the face still buried in the crook of his neck.

**Stranger:** Tony took the pills and swallowed them back, then chased them with a quick gulp of water. He sighed, handing the glass back to Steve. "Thanks," he said, closing his eyes and waiting for his headache to subside. "Do you know how to cook? Or are we really going to have to order pizza?"

**You:** Steve laughed, "I know how to cook," he assured him, "I went under before the whole 'fast food', -which I still don't understand. Is it like speedy food?- really caught on. Besides, it's Christmas. I doubt there'd be a pizza place open," he added, cocking his head to the side in thought.

**Stranger:** Tony chuckled fondly. "Cap, this is New York City. There's /always/ a pizza place open, even on Christmas. Probably a few Chinese places, too. We could takeout. But nah, I'm intrigued to see if you can really cook. Pep-uh...the fridge, it's usually stocked. Not sure what's in there that hasn't spoiled over the last week, though."

**You:** Steve nodded knowingly, "I'll see what I can whip up," he said, gently resting Tony on a stool at the counter before he walked to the fridge to open it. He crouched inside the doorway to check the expiration date on stuff, throwing out anything past it's written date, which, surprisingly, wasn't a lot. He found he even had some chicken that was still good.

**Stranger:** Tony folded his arms on the counter and laid down his head. He groaned tiredly as he watched Steve. "I'm allergic to shellfish," he muttered. "But there shouldn't be any shellfish in there, cause Pep-well, there just shouldn't be." God, she'd really been part of everything, hadn't she? How was he supposed to function now?

**You:** Steve nodded, "Shellfish is gross," he remarked as a recipe formed in his mind. He grabbed the chicken, a couple of eggs, the milk and quickly walked over to the panty, "Aha!" he mumbled, taking out a couple cans of cream of chicken soup. He quickly set to work, putting the chicken on the stove to boil, first.

**Stranger:** Tony smiled at him. "Well, isn't this domestic?" he commented. "I think I'll need to get you a nice, frilly pink apron. We'll have team dinners, and you can cook for all of us. Yeah, that would be a nice team building activity."

**You:** Steve cast a hard look over his shoulder, "You want to find out just how long that will last?" he asked in a firm tone that dared him to test it. "Because as soon as Natasha or Clint- or even Bruce shows up asking for my cooking, I won't even cook for you, much less them."

**Stranger:** Tony blinked, stunned. "Jesus, Rogers..." he muttered, looking away. "Sorry. Touchy, much?" He huffed, closing his eyes.

**You:** Steve glanced at him, sighing guiltily, "Sorry, I didn't mean to sound harsh. Before the serum, the guys in basic training used to make jokes about my cooking. I didn't realize it still got to me so much."

**Stranger:** "Yeah, well, I'm not the guys in basic training," Tony said, arching an eyebrow. "Remember, Rogers? I'm not a soldier. And I never will be."

**You:** Steve nodded, "I know, Tony. Trust me- I know. The guys in basic training drank less," he teased playfully. "And looked worse."

**Stranger:** "I can look pretty damn bad when I get really shit faced," Tony told him. "Just you watch. It's actually pretty impressive, I've gotta say." He sighed. "Plus, you know, the face is nice enough, I guess, but everything else is scarred."

**You:** Steve shrugged, "Scars aren't bad, Tony," he mumbled. "Everyone had a few- and I don't really mind them at all." He poured the cream of chicken soup, the chicken, and a couple of cans of vegetables into the bottom of the pan and laid the on top and putting it in the oven.

**Stranger:** "I have one glaring one," Tony muttered. "Literally, it glows. It's a beacon." He laid his hand over the reactor, warm and shining softly through the thin fabric of his shirt.

**You:** Steve smiled, "I like it," he admitted, putting the potholders down and leaning against the counter to look at Tony. "It shows that you're still alive."

**Stranger:** "That," Tony said. "And it's also a pretty good reminder of how badly I fucked my own life up. But then again, it's a good reminder of why I decided to change, too. It's a lot of things."

**You:** Steve nodded, thoughts mulling about in his mind. He was a bit surprised by how fast things had changed. Barely an hour ago they'd been yelling at each other and accusing them of things...now? It was just...calm. "It's all on the perspective."

**Stranger:** "I tend to have a pretty shitty perspective on things," Tony admitted. He sighed, sitting up, cracking his back, and his neck, and stretching his sore muscles.

**You:** Steve shrugged, "At least you know what perspective you're looking from," he remarked, walking over to the bar, resting his arms on it as he watched Tony stretch.

**Stranger:** Tony groaned, reaching up to rub a kink from his neck. Being completely smashed for the better part of a week, in retrospect, might not have been the most grand decision he'd ever made.

**You:** Steve rolled his eyes going around behind him, "Here," he mumbled, reaching up to shoo away Tony's hands, replacing them with his own, massaging away some of the tension in his neck and shoulders with powerful, circular motions.

**Stranger:** Tony melted at Steve's touch, slumping forward against the counter with a low moan. "Hooooly fuuuuck, Rogers..." he breathed. "You...have magic hands. Please, don't ever stop doing that."

**You:** Steve chuckled softly, continuing the motion easily, "I'll have eventually or lunch...dinner...whatever will burn," he reminded him, running his fingers easily up to the base of his skull then back down to his shoulder blades steadily.

**Stranger:** "Shit..." Tony muttered. "Then we're making this a daily thing, okay? You got that? Every single day, you are giving me a massage. Preferably with my clothes off, because that will just feel ten thousand times better."

**You:** Steve chuckled softly, "I'll see what I can do," he mumbled softly, moving to work his hands down to Tony's lower back, working out all the knots, "You're so tense," he mumbled softly.

**Stranger:** "I've been doing nothing but drinking myself into a stupor for almost a week, Steve," Tony reminded him. "Been collapsed on the couch, or on the floor, for most of that time. Not conducive to being not-tense..."

**You:** Steve nodded, rethinking his remark, "Fair enough," he mumbled as his hands began to work out a particularly large not, "No more of that," he chided, "If you drink, I'll be sitting there to drag you to bed when you pass out."

**Stranger:** Tony let out a sigh of relief. "Whew!" he said. "Dodged that bullet. I thought you meant no more drinking, not no more passing out in random places."

**You:** Steve chuckled, "I wouldn't do that," he mumbled, "Not cold turkey anyway. That can be worse for your health than the drinking itself."

**Stranger:** "Yeah, I know," Tony said, giving him a mock serious look. "People can die from that. So I guess I should just never quit drinking then, yeah? Sounds good to me."

**You:** Steve laughed softly, "Whatever makes you happy, Tony," he replied with a shrug. He never really liked the taste of alcohol and it was kind of useless now that he couldn't get drunk, but it wasn't his place to stop Tony if he wanted to.

**Stranger:** Tony's face took on a real seriousness, then, a sort of solemn, sad darkness. "It doesn't make me happy," he murmured. "It makes me feel nothing. And that's why I do it. To not feel."

**You:** Steve's hands stopped then, reaching around Tony's smaller forms to grasp his hand, braiding their fingers together. "Then I guess you need a reason to want to feel," he mumbled against the shell of Tony's ear.

**Stranger:** Tony shivered, closing his eyes, focusing on the wisp of Steve's breath against the sensitive skin of his ear. A blush crept across his cheeks. "You plan on being that reason...?" he whispered.

**You:** "If you want me to be," he replied, making no move to back away. His voice was solid, decisive, and a bit shaky, he'd admit. It'd been a while since he'd been as close to a person as he'd been to Tony today alone and he'd never been really good at admitting feelings and wants, having been to shy throughout his school years.

**Stranger:** "Steve..." Tony rasped, light trembles running through him again. It felt like the previous night all over again. Tony was struggling to hold on, but in a much less literal sense. "Steve, don't let me go."

**You:** Steve's other arm wrapped around Tony's torso from behind and pulled the smaller man firmly against his chest, "I won't let you go, Tony," he murmured, "I've got you. I won't let you fall, Tony," he uttered the words assuredly against his ear. "It's okay I've got you."

**Stranger:** "Fuck..." Tony swore, bringing his hands up, pressing his palms firmly against his eyes in an effort to force back the tears. "I'm sorry, Steve, I don't know what the fuck is wrong with me. I'm fine. I'm f-fine. Ignore me..."

**You:** Steve shook his head calmly, reaching up to pull Tony's hand away and gently brush away his tears, "We can't always be strong, Tony. It's okay. Like I said, I've got you," he promised. "I'm not going to let you fall, Tony. I'm not going anywhere."

**Stranger:** Tony released a trembling sigh, his hands gripping the fabric of Steve's shirt, searching for purchase, for something to ground him in reality. "It was awful," he choked. "She yelled, and screamed, and I yelled and screamed back, and it was just...it was horrible. But it was fast. And then it was over."

**You:** Steve pulled him close, rubbing his back gently, "It'll be alright, Tony," he whispered softly, reaching up to run a hand through his dark locks. "It only takes a moment to tear something down that to took a long time to build, but you know what? That's not always bad. Sometimes, it was torn down so that something better could be built in its place.

**Stranger:** Tony managed a smile, tight, almost pained. "I hope you're right, Steve. God damn it, I hope you're right."

**You:** Steve nodded softly, reaching up to stroke his cheek. He knew it wouldn't be easy, but he also knew he wouldn't let Tony do it alone. "So do I, Tony," he mumbled softly, turning to kiss his temple affectionately.

**Stranger:** "I'm suddenly not very hungry anymore," Tony muttered, exhausted. "Steve, I just want to go to sleep. Can I just go to sleep?"

**You:** Steve nodded and stepped over to turn off the over. "Sure, Tony," he said softly.

**Stranger:** Tony groaned. "Shit, I'm sorry, Steve. You were working on that dinner, and...you can finish cooking it. Maybe...maybe I'll be hungry later. I'm so sorry..."

**You:** Steve smiled softly, shaking his head, "Tony, it's fine, really. I'll put it in the fridge and cook it later," he promised. "It's just chicken pot pie. It's not the end of the world."

**Stranger:** "It sounds delicious," Tony said, a pit of guilt settling in his stomach. "I'm sorry, Steve. Really. I just...I feel sick..."

**You:** Steve walked back over to Tony, picking him up out of his chair like he'd done before, "Tony, if you feel sick you should lie down. Like I said, it doesn't matter, okay? It's not the end of the world It's not even the end of the day."

**Stranger:** Tony managed a smile at that. "Funny," he said. "You're funny, Steve." He let his head drop onto Steve's shoulder again, feeling small, like a cradled toddler. It wasn't in him to complain, not when he was so comfortable with it.

**You:** Steve smiled, reaching up to play with the hair at the base of his skull as he chuckled, "What can I say? I'm a comedian. It's one of many secret talents I have," he mumbled, making his way down the hallway, "I need to know where your room is," he mumbled.

**Stranger:** "Straight ahead and the third door on the left, sir," Jarvis' voice answered helpfully. "Mr. Stark's nightclothes are in the fourth drawer down in his dresser, and the switch for the blinds is by the window on the right side." Tony hummed. "I can't sleep with light," he mumbled. "Blackout blinds over the picture window."

**You:** Steve nodded softly, memorizing everything he'd been told, "Alright, thank you, Jarvis," he called, heading down the hall to the room Jarvis said was Tony's. He made his way over to the dresser and counted drawers down until the fourth, reaching in to grab whatever nightclothes Tony wore.

**Stranger:** Tony was already busy stripping off his day clothes, tossing them carelessly aside until he was left in nothing but his boxers and the bandages that covered his arms.

**You:** Steve didn't let how flustered he was now show in his face as he shifted Tony to hand him his night clothes while throwing his day clothes towards the hamper.

**Stranger:** Tony pulled on the offered sweatpants and t-shirt tiredly, then settled back against his bed, kicking the covers away impatiently so that he could climb underneath them.

**You:** Steve smiled softly and set Tony in bed, pulling the covers up around him, "While you take your nap I'm going to run to my apartment and get a few things for the night, okay?" he asked, going over to the window and flicking the switch for the blinds.

**Stranger:** Tony relaxed as darkness encompassed the room. "Okay," he agreed. "Don't be gone long." He sprawled out face-first across his bed, the way he usually slept when he was alone.

**You:** Steve nodded and made his way to the bed as he braced himself and leaned forward, pressing another soft kiss to Tony's lips, "I won't be," he promised. "I'll be back before you wake up."

**Stranger:** "Holding you to that, captain," Tony murmured. He closed his eyes, and in a matter of seconds, he was fast asleep, breathing softly.

**You:** Steve smiled and nodded, hurrying to his room to put on his shoes and grab his keys he'd just get a change of clothes a set of night clothes, toothpaste and a toothbrush.

**Stranger:** It wasn't long before Tony was plagued by his nightmares. They'd been an all too common occurrence, since the New York battle. And the remaining alcohol in his system didn't help any. He woke to an absence of Steve, trembling and sweating, and was forced to practically drag himself to the bathroom to vomit.

**You:** Steve walked in a few minutes later, stopping at his room to kick off his shoes and drop his bag before heading to Tony's room. He frowned at the empty bed and noticed the bathroom light on, quickly moving to head there, "Tony?" he called softly, walking in, instantly spotting his new house-mate. He crouched on the floor beside him, gently patting his back then rubbing soothing circles in the same place.

**Stranger:** "Y-you're late," Tony stammered, then vomited again. It was all bile, because he'd eaten nothing. Bile, burning his throat and leaving a sour, terrible taste in his mouth. His skin was clammy and the sweating was profuse enough to weigh his night shirt down. The dark circles beneath his eyes stood out even more prominently with the pale shade his skin had adopted.

**You:** Steve looked guilty at that, "There was more return traffic than I thought, he explained, gently reaching to tug the now useless shirt up over Tony's head, hoping to ease his sweating even just a bit, "I'm sorry, Tony. I'm here now," he said softly rubbing circles in his bare back tenderly, "I'm sorry I was late," he repeated, brushing the sweat-damp strands of hair from Tony's face.

**Stranger:** "I need a drink," Tony mumbled, because he knew that more alcohol was the only thing that would make these symptoms stop. "A glass of scotch, gin, rum...something. I need a drink." Shivers ran up his spine.

**You:** Steve nodded softly, getting up and hurrying to the kitchen and fixing a glass of the first alcoholic thing he saw, carefully but quickly carrying it back to Tony, holding it up in front of him, "Will this do?"

**Stranger:** Tony nodded, snatching the glass from Steve and downing it in a few quick gulps. The burn was preferable to the sting of bile in his throat. He shuddered and waited, waited, /waited/, then settled back against Steve as his nausea began to fade.

**You:** Steve wrapped his arms around Tony gently, relaxing when he noticed the other didn't seem to be getting sick any more. He gently rests his chin on Tony's shoulder, rubbing his arms gently, "I'm sorry," he repeated again softly. He'd given Tony his word then hadn't been able to fulfill it.

**Stranger:** "It's fine..." Tony muttered. "Really. It's not a big deal, Steve. Don't worry. I'm not actually angry." He sighed, leaning back into Steve's broad chest.

**You:** He didn't say anything else, pulling Tony closer against his chest silently as his eyes closed for a brief moment, the world around them falling silent. His hands continued to rub Tony's arms absentmindedly as he sat, his chest rising and falling against Tony's back.

**Stranger:** "You're too perfect..." Tony murmured, closing his eyes and allowing himself to doze again. It was really beyond his control. He couldn't help but fall asleep, with Steve holding him so close and touching him so gently.

**You:** He chuckled softly at that, "Bed time," he mumbled softly, standing, Tony still in his arms. He carried him to the bed, pulling back the covers once more.

**Stranger:** This time, Tony curled up loosely on his side, as if imagining a partner lying beside him that did not truly exist.

**You:** Steve reached down gently, stroking his cheek, "You know where to find me if you need anything at all," he whispered, pulling the cover up over him. "Sweet dreams, Tony."

**Stranger:** "They'll be about you..." Tony mumbled, managing a drowsy smirk. In only moments, he was lost to sleep again, snoring quietly against his pillow.

**You:** Steve smiled, feeling a blush creep onto his cheeks as he stood, making sure the cover was pulled taut around Tony so as to keep him warm. He left the room then, going to put the few things he'd brought away then maybe even take a nap himself.

**Stranger:** Tony managed to sleep. He slept for a long, long while, into the night, before his rest was disturbed again. This time, when he woke gasping from a nightmare, he did exactly as Steve had predicted. He rolled out of bed and padded softly into the other man's bedroom.

**You:** Steve was laying in bed, having yet to sleep, laying on his side, staring into space, lost in his own thoughts of the past as he so often was. He didn't notice Tony's presence in the unlit room for a long moment, remaining utterly silent.

**Stranger:** Tony, without any preamble whatsoever, pulled back the covers and climbed into bed behind Steve.

**You:** Steve jumped slightly, startled by the sudden movement, but relaxing quickly, instantly knowing who it was. He didn't even need to roll over. "Nightmare?" he asked softly.

**Stranger:** "Yeah," Tony croaked. "Always. Sorry; I startled you, didn't I?"

**You:** Steve smiled softly, reaching behind him to take Tony's hand, "A little," he admitted, "but I'll get used to it. I just didn't hear you."

**Stranger:** Tony squeezed Steve's fingers for comfort. "Sorry," he said again. "I'm naturally quiet."

**You:** He finally rolled over to look at Tony. Well, what he could see of him in the pitch dark. "It's alright," he repeated, "I figured it our quick enough."

**Stranger:** "No one here, other than you and me," Tony reasoned. He scooted closer to Steve.

**You:** Steve nodded softly, wrapping his arms around Tony, smiling softly, "Ain't no one here but us chickens," he mumbled, remembering the popular swing song.

**Stranger:** Tony pressed his nose to Steve's chest and huffed in confusion. "What the fuck are you talking about?" he asked.

**You:** Steve laughed softly, "Just a song from my time," he mumbled softly, shaking his head. "That's all."

**Stranger:** "I'd like to know more about it," Tony murmured. "Teach me about the olden days sometime, yeah?"

**You:** Steve laughed softly, reaching up to brush his hair back, "One of these days, I'll tell you all about it," he agreed. "Heck, I may even show you a dance from my time."

**Stranger:** "Warning you right now..." Tony breathed. "I'm not a very good dancer."

**You:** Steve laughed softly, leaning down so they were face to face, "Neither am I," he mumbled.

**Stranger:** Tony laughed, as well. "Then what's the point of us even trying to dance together?" he asked.

**You:** Steve shrugged, "The fun of it?" he ask, "I mean, if we're both terrible, we'll be too busy laughing at each other to notice that each other's laughing at us."

**Stranger:** "Oh, yes, that made oodles of sense, Rogers," Tony said. "Well done." He yawned widely, curling closer to Steve's chest.

**You:** Steve hummed a softly chuckling as pulled Tony closer, pulling the cover tighter around them, "Get some sleep, Tony," he mumbled softly.

**Stranger:** "Alright," Tony agreed, closing his eyes once more. He was asleep immediately, and this time, he did not have any nightmares.

**You:**Steve quickly followed him into probably the most peaceful sleep he'd had since he'd been thawed out.

**Stranger:** (I need to be getting to bed, but this has been absolutely wonderful. :) )

**You:** /I do too. And it's been terrific thank you for the lovely roleplay.

**Stranger:** Thank you, as well! :)

**You:** /I hope we meet again some time

**Stranger:** Goodnight!

Your conversational partner has disconnected.


End file.
